


It's Bean Fun

by downeylove



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluffy, Gen, Holiday Writing Challenge, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Peter Parker's dad, iron dad & spider son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 22:59:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17191880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downeylove/pseuds/downeylove
Summary: When Peter gets invited to Mr. Stark's Christmas Eve party, Peter gives him the only gift he can afford.





	It's Bean Fun

Peter is jolted awake with a gentle hand on his shoulder. He blinks a few times until his eyes focus and he smiles when he sees Pepper hovering over him. 

“It’s late, Pete. Happy’s gonna take you home,” she says softly, rubbing his shoulder. 

“Where’s Mr. Stark?” He asks groggily. 

“Over there,” Pepper laughs softly, nodding to the couch across from the one Peter is lying on.

Mr. Stark is lying face down on the sofa, his cheek pressed against the cushion in a deep sleep. Peter can only assume he’d passed out shortly after him, as they’d both been yawning heavily before Peter migrated to the couch for a quick nap.

“Oh.” Peter sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “I can take a cab. Happy doesn’t have to take me home.”

Pepper smiles and shakes her head. “He insisted. I think he wants to see your Aunt.”

Peter frowns, grabbing his jacket from the back of the sofa and pushing his arms into it. “Gross.”

Pepper nods in agreement and guides him from the workshop. Happy is waiting by the elevator, holding it open for Peter. He steps on and narrows his eyes at Happy for a brief second before waving to Pepper, “See you later, Pepper.”

“Bye, Pete. Tell Aunt May I said hi.” Pepper waves to him and disappears once the doors shut.

From there, the drive to Peter’s apartment feels long and he dozes in the front seat of the sleek Audi, his head pressed against the window. When Happy parks the car and cuts the engine, Peter yawns and climbs out, Happy following suit.

“You don’t have to come up,” Peter says warily.

“I wanna give your Aunt something,” Happy says, locking the car and following Peter into the building. 

“Ugh.” Peter rolls his eyes. Once they reach his floor and Peter shuffles into his apartment, he calls to Aunt May, “Happy’s here!”

Happy had been coming up to the apartment a lot lately, and Peter wasn’t entirely sure why. He, of course, had his suspicions, but he’d never seen anything definitive. But he always tries to make himself scarce whenever they’re together. Maybe it’s denial.

But this time, he sits on the couch as Aunt May emerges from her room with a smile. Happy’s face lights up and his cheeks turns crimson.

“Hi, May.”

“Harold.” She approaches him slowly, her eyes darting toward Peter. “Thanks for bringing him home.”

“Not a problem. Kid was exhausted.” Happy continues grinning at her while rifling inside his suit jacket. He pulls out a finely decorated envelope and hands it to her. “I also wanted to drop this by.”

“Ooh.” May takes the envelope and opens it. She pulls the card out and scans it quickly, looking over to Peter. “We’re invited to Tony’s Christmas Eve party.”

“What? Really?” Peter perks up. “Are we supposed to bring presents? What time does it start? Is it in the t–”

“Slow down, slow down.” Happy chuckles. “Details on the invitation. That’s why I brought it. Tony wanted to make sure you can both come.”

“We’ll be there,” Aunt May declares, her grin making Happy blush again. 

“Great, I’ll let him know.” He stares directly at her, both of them smiling like idiots.

Peter makes a gagging sound before leaping off the couch and snatching the invitation from Aunt May to read it over. “Why didn’t he ask me earlier?”

“Not sure.” Happy clears his throat and starts backing toward the door. “I should get going.”

Aunt May walks with him, opening the door for him and leaning against it. “Drive safe.”

Peter stares at her as she shuts the door, scowling. “What was that about?”

“What?” Aunt May walks past him, avoiding his eyes.

“That! You guys were totally flirting!” He exclaims, following her to her room. He stands in the doorway, the invitation held closely to his chest.

“He’s sweet!”

“ _ Gross! _ ”

“Oh, Peter, stop.” Aunt May laughs, giving him a gentle hug and then nudging him toward his own room. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” he grumbles, shutting his bedroom door and dropping onto his bed. He stares at the invitation and his petulance begins to wane as he thinks about the Christmas party.

He’d never been invited to one of Mr. Stark’s parties before, although he’s not sure how many he’s thrown since he’s known Peter. Probably quite a few, but he barely has time for Peter, let alone lavish parties filled with trendy strangers. If Happy hadn’t delivered the invitation himself, Peter would think it was a mistake.

He lies awake nearly all night, contemplating what he should wear to Mr. Stark’s party, what he should bring, how early he should arrive. Only when he decides that he’ll let Aunt May worry about it does he fall asleep. 

 

Peter looks at the crumpled one dollar bills in his hand and sighs, “What can I get for two dollars?” He asks Mr. Delmar.

Mr. Delmar shakes his head apologetically. “Not much, I’m afraid.”

Peter scans through all the knickknacks and their prices. Even a keychain is at least four dollars. Peter shoves the money back into his pocket and adjusts the straps of his backpack on his shoulder. “I’ll just go ask Aunt May for a little more cash. Thanks, Mr. Delmar.”

The shop owner waves and Peter tightens his thick jacket – a jacket Mr. Stark had gotten him – around himself and starts his trek home through the snow. 

Peter had been struggling to find a gift for Mr. Stark for Christmas, and now that it’s the day before Christmas Eve and he’d be attending Mr. Stark’s Christmas party the following day, he’s quickly running out of time. He’d spent all of his money on gifts for his friends and at the last second decided to get something for Mr. Stark after being convinced by Aunt May. 

It wasn’t until he’d gotten to Delmar’s that he realized he didn’t have quite enough for a suitable gift for a multi-billionaire. Hitting up Aunt May for a loan is a long shot. He knows she’s already struggling financially and even a few dollars might be difficult for her to swing.

When Peter gets home, he flings his backpack onto the couch and shuffles into the kitchen quietly where Aunt May struggles to fan the smoke from her newly burned meatloaf.

“I don’t think it’s burned too badly. Maybe just cut the edges off.” She inspects it, looking quite disgusted at the prospect of having to eat the charred meat.

“I’m sure it’s delicious,” Peter says helpfully.

She smiles at him and pulls out two plates, serving up the nearly inedible meatloaf on each one. She gives him a larger helping and piles some freshly thawed and cooked frozen veggies next to it. Once their food is dished out, Peter helps her carry the plates to the table.

“How was your day?” Aunt May asks as she forces down a bite of meatloaf.

“It was fine,” Peter says unconvincingly.

“Sure.” She fixes him with an admonishing stare.

Peter shrinks in his seat and pushes the vegetables around on his plate. “I didn’t have enough money to get Mr. Stark a gift.”

Aunt May smiles at him sympathetically. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Peter’s ears burn bright red as Aunt May crosses the room to grab her purse from the couch. She rummages within it for a few moments before extracting her wallet and unzipping it.

“Oh, Peter, I’m sorry. I don’t have any cash,” Aunt May apologizes.

“Thanks fine, I’ll figure something out.” Peter deflates, resting his chin on the table.

She takes her seat again and grimaces. “I’m sure he’d be happy with anything you got him. It’s the thought that counts. I can’t imagine too many people buying gifts for Tony Stark. He’s already got everything imaginable.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Peter takes a large bite of meatloaf despite his waning appetite.

“Why don’t you make him something?”

“There’s not enough time. The party is tomorrow,” he explains through a mouthful of veggies.

“How much money do you have?”

“Two dollars.” Peter sighs, cleaning up his plate and rinsing the burned meat taste out of his mouth with a few swigs of water.

“That’s barely enough for a can of beans,” May concedes. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Pete.” She looks down at her nearly empty plate. “This was horrible.”

“It was delicious.” Peter leans over to kiss her cheek before grabbing his dish and taking it to the sink to wash. “I’m going on patrol for a few hours.”

“Be careful.”

Much to his disappointment, there isn’t a lot of crime to stop on the day before Christmas Eve. Not that that’s a bad thing, but he’d really love to take his mind and his worries off his family’s financial struggles and his inability to come up with a gift for Mr. Stark.

Sitting on the edge of a building with his two dollars weighing heavily in his pocket, he flops back and stares at the night sky.

“Karen, I have no idea what to get for Mr. Stark. I only have two dollars,” Peter groans. “Things in New York are too expensive.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Peter. Would you like me to call Tony Stark?” Karen answers crisply.

“What? No! Karen, I can’t talk to Mr. Stark about how I’m too poor to buy him a Christmas present.” Peter laughs in spite of his melancholy. “I just want to be able to afford something that’s at least semi decent.”

Peter isn’t disappointed because he simply can’t afford a suitable gift for Mr. Stark. He’s always known Aunt May has struggled with money, and by default so has he. And he knows that Mr. Stark doesn’t really  _ need _ anything. Like Aunt May said, he has everything he could possibly ever want and nothing Peter gives him is going to be any different than what he could buy for himself.

But Peter wants to show his appreciation for Mr. Stark and all that he’s done for him. His life would be wildly different from what it is now if he’d never discovered that Peter is Spider-Man. He definitely wouldn’t have his suit. And he would almost certainly be dead without it. Not to mention the countless lessons Mr. Stark teaches him whether he realizes he’s doing it or not. 

Mr. Stark is an invaluable part of Peter’s life and he’d be lost without him, especially after Uncle Ben’s unexpected passing. Peter knew that Aunt May had struggled with his death and with Peter distancing himself further and further from her because of his guilt and regret, she’d been at her wit’s end.

He already lost  _ both _ of his parents, and now that his one and only father figure had died, Peter felt crippled and confused despite his new abilities. 

Mr. Stark’s sudden appearance in his life changed all that. He’d grounded Peter and taught him valuable lessons as a superhero. And although Peter hadn’t realized it until later, Mr. Stark treats him like a son, overprotective and stern. He even put every safeguard imaginable in his suit so that Peter would be better defended against any possible threat he may face. Peter thought that Mr. Stark was being overbearing and treating him like a child at first, but now that he looks back on it, he can’t think of a gesture that’s more fatherly than that.

So, as he gazes out at the city, the heater in his suit engaged to keep him from freezing to death, he sighs, turning any possible gift ideas over in his mind. He draws a complete blank.

As midnight approaches and a light dusting of snow begins to fall, he starts swinging home.

 

Peter doesn’t sleep a wink that night, far too caught up in his head. He knows that Mr. Stark more than likely won’t even notice if he brings a gift of any kind. But that doesn’t stop Peter from playing out the worst scenarios he can possibly imagine.

When Aunt May knocks lightly on his door at eight in the morning, he lifts his head from the pillow just as she peeks inside. “I made eggs. They’re a little burned.”

Peter smiles and climbs out of bed. Aunt May has never  _ not _ burned a single meal in her life. But he’s grown accustomed to the taste of charred food. “I love burned eggs,” he reassures her, shuffling past in socked feet and heading to the kitchen.

He spots the two plates on the kitchen table, both filled with eggs, toast, and bacon, all of them more than a little bit burnt. Peter takes a seat and starts shoveling food into his mouth.

“Did you figure out what you’re going to get for Tony?” May asks, sitting across from him and starting on her food without gusto.

Peter shakes his head solemnly. “I’m just gonna stop by Mr. Delmar’s on the way to the party and see what I can get.” Peter takes a large bite of the buttered toast, topped with grape jam to dull the taste of scorched bread.

He feels Aunt May’s eyes on him as he chews his food slowly.

“Did you sleep?” She asks.

Peter’s ears burn red. “A little.”

“Uh huh.” Aunt May cleans off her plate several minutes after he does and takes them over to the sink to wash. “You don’t need to lose sleep over it, Peter. I’m sure Tony will love whatever you end up getting for him.”

Peter slumps in his chair and presses his forehead against the table. “I know, I know. I just wanna show him how much I appreciate him, you know?”

May smiles at him gently. “You’re too sweet for your own good.”

Peter sighs and shuffles over to her, quietly placing a kiss on her cheek. Without a word, he goes to his room to get dressed. Once he pulls on his jeans, a t-shirt and a heavy sweater, he grabs his two whole dollars and heads out to find something to buy for Mr. Stark. 

When he gets to Mr. Delmar’s shop, he spends twenty minutes combing through the narrow aisles of the shabby store, looking for anything and everything that fits within his two dollar budget. When all he comes up with is a can of beans, he sets it on the counter sullenly and hands Mr. Delmar his two dollars. He gets five cents back in change.

Peter returns to their apartment with his can of beans and slumps onto the sofa. Aunt May walks in from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. “What’d you get him?”

“Beans,” Peter answers, ashamed.

“Oh, honey, why don’t you make him a nice card? I’m sure he won’t laugh too hard about the beans if you write him a nice note.” May sits next to him and takes the beans from him. “Do you want me to wrap these?”

Peter laughs and nudges her with his shoulder. “I think a bow and bag will do just fine. But a card does sound like a good idea.” He pushes up from the sofa and grabs the beans. “Thanks, Aunt May.”

Peter hurries to his room and shuts the door. He goes into his closet and grabs a bin filled with paper, colored pencils, and markers, along with various kid’s art supplies. He dumps out the contents onto the floor and sits next to the pile. 

As he’s sifting through the papers to find a blank one, he comes across some old drawings he’d made as a child. A fond smile spreads across his face. Each drawing depicts himself and Iron Man in various scenarios. He continues flipping through the pile of papers, his smile getting wider each time. Even as a boy, he’d idolized Tony Stark shamelessly. Iron Man.

When he reaches the last drawing, his eyes burn with tears. In it, he’s standing next to Iron Man, just holding his hand. The speech bubble next to Peter reads,  _ “Thanks for saving me, Iron Man!” _

Peter lays out all the drawings on the floor in front of him and finally locates a large blank piece of construction paper. He begins cutting up the drawings and laying them out side by side on the paper. Once all of the drawings are assembled in a collage on the blank paper, Peter glues them down.

Flopping back onto the floor, Peter sighs, waiting for the glue to dry. The beans weren’t much of a present, but he hopes Mr. Stark finds some sentiment in Peter’s childhood drawings. At this point, it’s all he really has. 

Once the glue is dry, Peter flips over the construction paper and begins scribbling a short note in his neat scrawl. He finishes it off with  _ Love, Peter _ and carefully folds his collage so that it will fit in a small bag with the beans.

“Stupid beans,” Peter mutters as he tucks the can and the collage into the bag.

 

When Peter and Aunt May arrive at Mr. Stark’s penthouse apartment, he’s expecting there to be flashing lights, loud music, and throngs of trendy people celebrating their Christmas with  _ the _ Tony Stark. What he finds instead is a quiet get together with several people Peter has grown accustomed to over the past year, all gathered in the living room in front of the crackling fireplace and beautifully decorated tree.

“Pete and May are here!” Happy slurs, holding up what Peter can only assume is his fifth eggnog of the evening. Happy stands from the couch and heads over to the two of them, wrapping them both in a jolly, bone crushing hug. 

Aunt May blushes and pats his chest. “Hello, Harold.”

Peter narrows his eyes at the two of them before peeking around his broad shoulders to see who else had come to the party. Although, he’s starting to think of it as more of a casual get together among friends.

Rhodey is seated on the couch where Happy had been sitting next to him moments prior. He’s wearing a Santa hat and holding his own cup of eggnog. He waves to Peter. “How’s it going, Peter?”

“Can’t complain.” Peter shrugs as he, May, and Happy make their way over to the small group. “How about you?”

“I’m decent,” Rhodey answers jovially, taking a large gulp of his eggnog.

“Good to see you, Peter,” Pepper says softly, her smile serene and relaxed.

“You too.” Peter grins and sets his gift back next to the tree before turning to warm his hands near the fire. “Where’s Mr. Stark?”

Pepper grimaces, “He’s not having a very good day. He’s in the shop brooding. I’ve tried coaxing him out, but no such luck.”

The excitement about the party that had been building in Peter all day deflates. “Oh. Is he gonna come out later?”

Pepper gulps down some of her eggnog, “I’m sure he will.”

Aunt May and Happy take a seat on the couch next to Rhodey, leaving Peter to sit in the remaining armchair. A mechanical whirring sound sound alerts him to the arrival of one of Mr. Stark’s cumbersome bots. He turns and sees Dum-E rolling toward him with a tray full of glasses of eggnog, one glass with Peter’s name on it – virgin, he assumes.

He grins. “Thanks, Dum-E.” Peter snatches up his glass and takes a sip, savoring the creamy drink.

Dum-E makes the rounds and disappears back into the kitchen once everyone has a drink. The evening progresses with laughter and fun, but in the back of his mind, Peter wishes Mr. Stark was here to enjoy it. He wonders just what got him in such a horrible mood to begin with. So much that he decided to skip his own party.

As the adults gather in the kitchen around the snacks that Dum-E had prepared, Peter slips away with his present for Mr. Stark. He approaches the shop and peers through the glass doors, spotting Mr. Stark on the couch holding a picture frame.

Something clicks and Peter realizes exactly why Mr. Stark is so sour. 

He knocks lightly on the door and Mr. Stark lifts his head. He waves Peter in and he obliges, slowly approaching him and taking a seat at the other end of the couch. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” he says quietly. He eyes the picture in his hands and chances a guess. “Your parents?”

“Yeah.” He nods slowly, setting it onto the sleek glass coffee table in front of the couch. “27 years they’ve been gone. Doesn’t get any easier, does it?”

Peter shakes his head, setting the gift bag down between his feet.

“How ya doin’? Having fun?” He asks, reaching over to pat Peter on the shoulder.

Peter grimaces and nods, avoiding Mr. Stark’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“That’s convincing,” he scoffs. “What’s up?”

Peter plays with the end of his grey sweater, pulling at a loose thread. Finally, his fingers stop twitching and he looks down at the bag between his feet. “I thought I’d get to hang out with you more.”

Mr. Stark sighs and grips Peter’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, Pete. I’ve never been one for these things. Pepper and Rhodey always make me do it.” He follows Peter’s gaze to the bag. “But it  _ was _ my idea to invite you. I guess the least I could do is show up, right?”

Peter stays still. He didn’t want to offend Mr. Stark if he nods. It is a bit rude to not show up to your own party. He shrugs instead, “It’s no big deal.”

He eyes Peter for a moment before nodding down at the bag, “Whatcha got there?”

Peter snatches up the bag and holds it in his lap. “I got you something.” He can feel his cheeks burning red and thrusts the bag into Mr. Stark’s hands before he can chicken out. “It’s nothing. It’s really, the absolute least I could do. I’m so sorry, I really don’t even know why I’m giving this to you, it’s so stupid–”

“Hey, hey, hey. Calm down, Pete. It’s fine,” He laughs. He rifles through the bag until his fingers clasp around what feels like a can. He pulls it out and blinks in confusion at the can of beans. “What the hell?”

“Merry Christmas?” Peter says timidly. 

Mr. Stark barks with laughter and sets the can onto the table, a bow taped to the top of it. “Thank you, Peter. I love it.”

“You’re just saying that,” Peter protests.

“I am not! I love beans! We’re gonna cook these right now!” He looks toward the door. “Dum-E! Come here!”

The bot rolls slowly into the workshop, his Santa hat lopsided. He chirps happily.

“Make these, will you? Don’t let anyone else eat them. These are mine and Peter’s.” Mr. Stark grins, rubbing Peter’s shoulder reassuringly. “And don’t burn them!” he calls to the bot as he begins rolling away with the beans clutched safely in his claw.

Peter chews on his lip as tears well in his eyes despite Mr. Stark’s acceptance of his gift.

“What? What’s wrong? We don’t have to eat the beans, I’ll put them on my desk or something,” He says quickly.

“I–I just wish I could – I could show you how much y–you mean to m–me,” Peter stammers. “I’m s–sorry.” He buries his face in his hands to hide his reddening cheeks and shakes his head. His nervous stutter always has the worst possible timing. 

“Hey hey hey, Pete, calm down.” Mr. Stark grips the back of Peter’s neck pulls him closer. “It’s okay. You don’t have to  _ ever _ get me a gift. But just know, I’m always gonna love anything you ever give me.” His fingers press into Peter’s neck gently. “C’mon, kid. Breathe.”

Peter sucks in a sharp breath, keeping his face hidden. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Pete.” He grimaces, watching him. “Seriously, don’t worry about the beans. The fact that you got me anything to begin with is more than enough.” Mr. Stark moves his hand down to rub Peter’s back soothingly. “And you, here, alive and safe is more than I could ever ask for, kid.”

Peter lifts his head slowly, turning to look at Mr. Stark in surprise. “Really?”

Mr. Stark seems surprised by the declaration himself, although he knows it’s absolutely true. He’s always hounding Peter about being careful while on patrol. Whenever he shows up at the tower with any kind of injury, no matter how minor or severe, Mr. Stark never fails to berate him while simultaneously fretting and worrying if Peter is okay or not. 

Once Mr. Stark recovers, he nods. “Of course. You know I’m always worried about you. You’re kinda like my kid at this point. Always pestering me, falling asleep on my couch, making me anxious whenever you’re not within my direct eyeline.”

Peter’s ears burn red and he shrinks in on himself. Tony Stark just equated Peter to being his own child. Not that Peter hasn’t thought about it  _ obsessively _ throughout the duration of each and every one of their encounters. Because he has.  _ Obsessively _ . And now that he knows Mr. Stark views him that way too, he’s more than a little relieved. 

When the silence settles between them and all they do is stare at each other, Peter finally breaks away and looks down at the bag at Mr. Stark’s feet. “There’s one more thing in there.”

“Oh yeah?” He reaches down and pulls out the tissue paper along with the rest of the contents of the bag. He reads Peter’s note first, a lump forming in his throat.

_ Mr. Stark, thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I wouldn’t be where I am without you. Love, Peter. _

When his eyes fall on the collage of drawings Peter had assembled on the opposite side of the note, they grow misty and he presses his lips into a tight line. 

“They’re just some drawings I did when I was a kid. I found them earlier and thought I’d show you,” Peter clears his throat, “Y–you’ve always been my favorite.”

Mr. Stark remains silent as he looks at each and every drawing on the page, done in crude, children’s artwork. When he finally gets his voice back and swallows the frog in his throat, he looks at Peter. “Thank you, Pete. This is–” he chokes, unable to finish his thought without completely betraying his emotions. 

“They’re not very good,” Peter says quickly, rubbing the back of his head. “But I–”

“They’re great.” Mr. Stark sets the drawings onto the table and hooks his arm around Peter’s shoulders to bring him into an awkward side hug. Peter rests his head on his shoulder as he lets out a sigh and closes his eyes.

“Thanks, dad.”

He smiles and presses his hand to the top of Peter’s head, fingers stroking the soft brown curls affectionately. “No problem, kid.” He ruffles Peter’s hair gently before pulling back to look down at him, 

After several moments of silence, Peter sighs. “I think Aunt May likes Happy.”

“That’s a relief.” Mr. Stark laughs. “He won’t stop asking me to give him pointers on how to ask her out. I wish they’d just pull the trigger already.”

Peter looks up at him, mortified. “Don’t let him ask her out! It’s  _ weird _ !”

“Why?”

“He–I don’t know, he’s–he’s  _ Happy! _ ”

Mr. Stark stares at him as if that isn’t a good enough response. Because it isn’t. “What’s wrong with Happy?”

“Nothing! I just–”

“You don’t want her to be with anyone else?”

Peter frowns, feeling suddenly guilt. That’s exactly why he doesn’t want her to be with Happy. For as long as he’s known her, she’s always been Aunt May. Aunt May with Uncle Ben. But now she’s Aunt May without Uncle Ben. Is it really fair for him to not want her to be with Happy just because he can’t imagine her with anyone but his Uncle?

_ No _ , he chides himself.

“She’s gotta move on sometime, Pete. And it might as well be with someone you  _ like _ ,” He suggests.

Peter  _ loves _ Happy. He’s like another, more surly, serious Uncle he’d just discovered was part of the family. Would be be so bad if he and Aunt May started dating?

“I guess you’re right.” Peter sighs. When Mr. Stark ruffles his hair, he rests his head on his shoulder again. 

“Wanna rejoin the party?”

Peter’s skin flushes again, “Oh – uh, yeah. S-sorry for bothering yo–”

He laughs and nudges him. “You really gotta be more confident, Pete. I meant  _ both of us _ .”

“Oh, right.” Peter laughs nervously and leaps up from the couch. “I knew that.”

Mr. Stark follows, much slower, resting his hand on Peter’s shoulder and guiding him out of the workshop. Once they reach the kitchen where everyone is gathered, they break apart and he plants a gentle kiss on Pepper’s lips.

“Hello.” She sounds surprised, but accepts his kiss nonetheless.

“Mind if I join?” he asks softly, looking between her and Rhodey who nods.

“Of course.” Pepper kisses him again and takes a sip of her drink. Just as she lowers her glass, Dum-E rolls up carrying a fresh tray of eggnog and everyone takes one, except Peter who snatches up his own glass containing the virgin drink.

“Peter got me beans.” Tony grins, his arm hooking around Pepper. He winks over at Peter who blushes.

“Beans? How thoughtful.” She smiles warmly at Peter.

“It’s nothing.”

“Nonsense, I love beans.” Tony turns back to Dum-E. “Where are the beans?”

The robot chirps sadly, setting his tray down and going back to where the pot of beans rests on the stove. Dum-E stirs them slowly and Peter thinks it’s a disaster waiting to happen. He’s surprised when Dum-E doesn’t spill them, but instead lifts the pot and rolls toward Tony slowly, proudly presenting the now cooked beans.

“Hey, you didn’t burn them.” Tony detaches from Pepper and grabs the pot from Dum-E to take a bite. He makes a face. “Because they’re not cooked. Did you even turn the stove on?”

Peter looks over at the stove and lumbers toward it. He holds his hand over the burner it had been on. “Stone cold.”

“You’re hopeless,” Tony berates Dum-E whose claw lowers in disappointment. “Go make more eggnog,” he laughs, patting the bot’s claw and straightening the Santa hat. “Who wants cold beans?”

“No, those are all yours. Peter gave them to _ you _ ,” Aunt May teases.

“I’ll just cook them myself,” Tony concedes, taking the pot back over to the stove. “I  _ love _ beans,” he repeats.

Once the beans are thoroughly cooked, Tony keeps the pot all to himself. They’re  _ his _ beans. Peter gave them to him, and he’s going to enjoy every last bite.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Marvel Holidays Writing Challenge on Tumblr! 
> 
> Thanks to kayytx for proofreading and stuff :)


End file.
